Richie Rich
by aleeban
Summary: For Neal, it used to be a routine activity but Peter was never chased by a cop-car before. Appearances can be deceiving… right? Buckle up your seatbelts for a thrilling ride!
1. Road Rage

Set in mid season two. Some geographical alterations made in New York. Story is unbeta'ed. I apologize for any mistakes. Jeff Eastin owns the show, but toying with the characters makes me happy... seriously just borrowing them for a while.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Road Rage**

Peter remained focused on the intended task, as if his life depended on it. Meanwhile, Neal played the role of a guiding light, giving quick instructions,

"Strip the ignition wire… yes, this brown one…"

"Now touch it with the red ones - I said _touch_ not twist!"

Trying to escape Richard's men was a hard nut to crack. After dodging them at the workshop, Peter and Neal hid in a packed parking lot, hurried along a line of cars in a crouched position until they located a car that (according to Neal's expertise) could be easily tampered with. Peter occupied the driver's seat of the now-stolen car. Neal was sitting next to him, gazing out of the window for any signs of potential danger, his arm propped up against the door. Just then the engine started to rev, indicating their success.

"You made me hot-wire a car", Peter remarked, trying his best to suppress a grin.

"Not your first time Peter… But no doubt, you have skills. This old GM model is difficult to start than the Lamborghini you stole- I mean steered a while ago… No spare keys, but to our advantage, no alarm system" fastening the seatbelt, Neal logically appreciated his maneuver.

"Yeah, but it was not as hard as I thought it to be" reflected Peter, with a sense of achievement. He looked at Neal out of curiosity, "the abundance of knowledge you have on cars makes me wonder... how many have you stolen so far?"

"Now is not the right time… Can I have my tie clip back?" Neal had to distract him because their ongoing discussion was heading nowhere safe.

Peter returned his fashion accessory or in fact a secret lock pick tool, which might come in handy in crucial moments. _This time, it was used to take off access cover under the steering wheel._

All was going well.

Peter was reversing when they heard someone shout,

"Hey! Stop! That's my car!"

From the side mirror they could see a woman in mid-forties running towards them, holding a handbag, most likely coming back from work. She tried to follow them, cursing all the way but Peter sharply veered the car to the left, driving down a street.

* * *

They were speeding towards an upcoming busy intersection. The whole scenario changed. Peter was no longer proud of his act, feelings of guilt for stealing a civilian's car were more pronounced. Neal felt the same but he was better able to mask his expressions.

Peter had a slight frown on his face, his anger accelerating- almost complementing the driving speed, but he tried his level best to regain control by tightening grip on the steering wheel and avoiding speech altogether. Eventually words came out just the way they were banging inside his head,

"You made me hot-wire a car!"

"You had other options?" Neal asked in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Yes…no…well I could've thought something legal" Peter uttered, looking harried.

"Unless you're forgetting those GOONS were chasing us with guns at the ready…it was a life saving situation!" Neal quipped.

"Wonder how you make crimes sound more like a moral doing" Peter said to himself a little above whisper.

"I didn't catch that?" Neal prompted.

"Nothing…You got the evidence?" Peter extended a hand in his direction to grasp whatever he had to offer.

Neal made a face as if he'd forgotten something important.

"Stop messing around Caffrey… Give me the damn documents!"

"Easy there Tiger…here you go".

Peter was expecting Neal to give him a stack of papers, or a file, or maybe a flash drive, but just like a flip of a coin, suspense reached its anti-climax when Neal handed him something out of the blue,

"That's all I've got".

* * *

_He is playing a prank... __Can't he assess the seriousness of our situation! _

"A floppy? - You sure this was all?"

"You're not pleased?" Neal scoffed. "Next time I'll tell Richard to be more _tech savvy_ for hiding top secret information that might put him behind _**bars**_!"

Thoroughly disappointed, Peter just rolled his eyes and pocketed that disk, while single handedly controlling the steering wheel.

"The Bureau knows or you have suddenly volunteered to save my life?" Peter wanted confirmation because there was no sign of backup anywhere.

"Um-I don't think so they know- but they will Peter, they will!" Before Peter could lecture him again, Neal went on quickly, "I have a plan…" He raised his pant leg to reveal his anklet "We just have to cross my two mile radius limit".

Neal was eyeing Peter, waiting for a 'thumbs up' signal but his so-called plan was deliberately ignored.

Peter knew they were still in danger zone. Bluntly following Neal's previous plan had landed him on the run in a stolen car. He couldn't take any more 'career risks'. _Of course they need to contact the FBI, _he made a mental note of it. Just out of habit Peter placed his hand in his pant pocket, searching for something and then remembered…

"Damn it! ... Neal you have your phone? Those bastards destroyed mine at the workshop". Neal hesitated for a while and then handed his, saying in monotone "No use…low battery".

"Great! Of all the times…you decided not to charge your phone today" Sarcasm evident in every word Peter said.

"Hey stop blaming me…you confiscated it yesterday remember? While- I was having _a little... pep talk_" Neal averted his gaze at the last words, he knew he gave himself away this time.

"Yeah I remember now… vividly…coz that 'pep talk' continued for more than an hour...stop pretending all innocent here!…I can watch every move you make from my office. And during your intimate phone call, that 'smirk' on your face told me everything I need to know!…one hour long discussion with Mozzie and you were ready to plan something big again…tell me I'm wrong?"

Neal sighed "We weren't planning anything big…and show Mozzie some respect will you? His paranoia helps better than the F.B.I … By the way, he was the one who figured Richard won't consider your deal and because of him I found you".

Finally Neal made his point, Peter didn't argue any further, he wanted to ask how Mozzie knew his whereabouts but thought better of it.

* * *

The stolen car blended in with traffic. After few minutes of silent but speedy driving, Peter addressed Neal while gazing at the reflection of on-road traffic from the rear-view mirror, "So what now? We're not being followed as far as I can see"

Neal looked behind, "Hmm…I hope so…Anyways where are we headed? ... To the Bureau?" Peter just nodded in reply. "Please Peter it can wait, just go home to Elizabeth and give them a call that you're safe … it's past five already". Neal was literally pleading but Peter was used to such comments so the car followed route to the Bureau nonetheless, until Peter noticed something strange,

"I can see a cop car coming our way…"

"Peter… this is the first time I'm seeing cops take immediate action after a crime… are they going to arrest us?" Neal looked worried, on the contrary Peter perceived that finally help has arrived.

"I don't care… we'll accept charges". Peter replied, he was willing to assuage his guilt by making a full confession.

"But you're an FBI agent!" Neal had a fuzzy feeling, _something doesn't seem right_ but Peter was oblivious to his silent warnings.

"Now unless _you_ are forgetting… we did steal that woman's car but she doesn't know the context. I'm sure N.Y.P.D. will consider our statement… All right! Time to become law abiding citizens once again", he beamed at Neal while decelerating the speed of their car, "Hang on a sec…why is it trying to take a wrong tur-"

**-BAM!-**

Peter was about to say 'turn' when all hell broke loose. He heard screeching sound of wheels in reverse gear and then all engine sounds faded as their car jumped and landed a few feet ahead. Trunk lid of the car (now detached from main body) flew all the way through, till reaching the road surface with a huge 'thunk' in front of them. Neal was unprepared so the sudden impact propelled his head forward while his body didn't budge at all.

"I'm good" breathing heavily he answered Peter's worried glance.

"HEY!", Peter shouted back but soon realized that their car-banging-incident was purely intentional. That cop car was occupied by some very familiar faces he left at the workshop a short while ago.

"I think we're not the only one borrowing stolen property" Neal said, still panting, but Peter continued to drive- he had to. Apart from a slight bruise above his cheek bone he looked well.

Soon their chasers reappeared, making Peter and Neal become key characters of a violent road rage.

"Um- Peter?"

"Not now" Peter had no time for chat. He was driving with full concentration, but Neal had to speak as it was equally important, "Uh-I think we're driving back towards the workshop".

Neal was right indeed. Their chasers were gaining distance. Now Peter slammed on the brakes, took a wrong turn and Neal was amazed as if seeing Peter's true colors for the first time. Dire circumstances require dare, experiencing that today was hard for Peter. He missed his Taurus more than anything, realizing how much he blindly depended on his car especially in terms of directions.

Cop car succeeded to overtake. One of their enemies leaned out of the side window,

"Watch out!" Neal yelled.

Peter moved sideways, one gunshot whistle passed his ear which confirmed that Richard's men were armed. Since they were approaching closer, Peter ordered Neal to duck down and he obeyed without arguing, which was unusual but a blessing in disguise, because after a few seconds a bullet passed through their windscreen and lodged in the headrest of passenger seat right where Neal's head was supposed to be.

In that hour of need, Peter was on his own, as Neal remained crouched like a frog with arms covering his head to avoid any serious damage from fired bullets or shattered glass. He could only hear or feel engine vibrating with rapid momentum; ensuring him that Peter was still alive. Deep within he knew he could trust Peter, like always. Another smashing sound- _probably a tail light got busted_, Neal doubted.

When their rivals took aim for the fourth time, Peter swerved to ward off their deadly intent. He drove through a road signaling red light, changed lanes at random, mounted the pavement, smashed into a yard sale; dodged several passerbys and a stray cat (quick visit to the Bureau long forgotten). To add to his misery, onlookers viewed him as a suspect for whom the cop car took off in pursuit. He wanted to shout at them, _I am FBI_ but failed miserably, he had already broken enough rules to strengthen their conviction.

Their chasers were tailgating them. Without warning Peter veered off the main road, hitting a "road closed ahead" sign. Soon Peter and Richard's men were driving neck and neck, slashing each other. Cop car even tried to overtake again but,

-WHOOSH!-

_ Are they retreating? No, this can't be possible … Why one of them is making the 'loser' hand gesture… Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me…_ _they might come up with a more vicious strategy… _Peter contemplated and kept on driving relentlessly.

Suddenly their car stalled.

"Shit! Oh Come on!" Peter cursed, trying to start the engine, repeating the wire sparking technique, he learnt from Neal a short while ago, it turned on for a second or two but then died because the fuel gauge indicated 'empty'. Also, their car couldn't keep rolling on a flat tire for long so their perilous expedition came to an abrupt halt in the middle of somewhere.

Agitated, Peter got out of the car, slammed his fist on the hood, rubbed his worrisome face with both hands and took a few steps away to cool his temper. Neal tried to relax his muscles by dusting off glass shavings and regaining a sitting position in passenger seat. Finally being able to see the bullet-punctured windscreen, Neal realized he owed Peter his life. No clue where their enemies fled but they both needed a break. Definitely it was no fun ride. Neal took a grasp of his surroundings,

"Peter, where are we?"

* * *

It was a one-way road, completely deserted; with buildings under construction on either side. Setting sun was casting warm tones across the horizon. A board was placed at a proximal distance, labeled:

**ORIGINS**

APARTMENTS FOR SALE

Find your dream property in this undisturbed and peaceful area

Peter closely studied that board and replied, "I know this place. El told me that they're advertising like hell… demolishing old buildings with the aim of establishing sound habitat in New York. Bet it will take years…they have just abolished few blocks".

"Meaning we're still in New York?" Neal questioned.

"Yeah, but until we get a ride, we're stuck here with no phone, no traffic no nothing!" Peter wistfully stated.

Neal was observing their current location with fascination while still sitting in the car.

"Don't even think about it", Peter threateningly pointed a finger at him.

"About what?", Neal prompted.

"About liquidating some more assets … to buy a dream home!", Peter clarified his assumption.

As a reflex of thinking, Neal narrowed his eyes, "Your theory taken into consideration" he said, "I won't lie to you…I'm intrigued".

That statement just added fuel to the flames for Peter so Neal decided to change the subject with high spirits, "Peter, we've made it…Sure, you drive like crazy… with no sense of direction, but you dodged them pretty good this time"

"Honestly-I don't know why they called off the chase but thank God we're alive" Peter was even smiling with relief.

"Why haven't I heard of this place?", Neal wondered.

"Because-", Peter moved closer to the car, "Hey, check your anklet this place is way out of your radius".

It seemed as if Peter had lifted a magical spell because just then, Neal started hearing a faint beeping sound. He laughed at the coincidence, "About time", but when he raised his pant leg, his insides lurched.

"Um-Peter, the anklet…its blinking no light"

* * *

"What?" Peter peered inside the window to view himself. Neal was not lying; his tracking anklet was indicating no signal.

"You sure you didn't do this?" Peter couldn't keep the anger from his voice.

"Wha- I'm telling you the truth…it was working at the parking lot, you saw it!" Neal was taken aback at this sudden temper outburst. _Why can't Peter ever trust me?_ He thought.

_-Beep Beep Beep-_

"Wait- Neal did you hear that?" Now Peter's tone was a little skeptic.

"Yes, I can hear that, but haven't I told your already- it is NOT coming from my anklet!" Irritated, Neal almost shouted, but then the realization struck him- a time bomb, somewhere in the car.

Peter was way more coherent than Neal as he came in full agent mode, opening the side door, he commanded, "Neal you have to get out of the car…now!"

Neal was still stunned at the irony of his predicament. After all that has happened today, they have yet to become victims of a car explosion. It was difficult for him to get out. Not that he experienced any kind of pain but that recent alarm of a bomb existence made his muscles weak, all humor and satire forgotten. He had to comply with Peter on this one who supported him as they tried to run away from the car as fast as they could-

**-BOOM!-**

A fireball in the background tossed them like rag dolls, they were thrown three feet in the air, but managed to break their fall in time. Car exploded, which was expected, but both were out of harm's way, thanks to Peter.

* * *

They sat on the road, cross-legged, breathing heavily, gathering their recently lost strength. Neal was using his tie to soak blood drops oozing from his palm, wincing and jerking his hand occasionally. Sudden frictional contact of his exposed skin with concrete resulted in some mild abrasions.

"You all right?", Peter asked turning his head in Neal's direction, both now covered in ash and soot.

He nodded, "Yeah! … Just not expecting that…"

Late evening tranquility was disrupted by that big fiery explosion. They could still see the thick plume of smoke rising in the atmosphere.

"I think such blasts are common here. It's a construction site. No one will come for our aid" Neal sadly concluded.

Peter was submerged in his own thoughts. _We need to get out of here somehow_. _Why the hell Neal's anklet stopped working? _Imagining the worst case scenarios made him angrier. They were about to get killed today, not just once... All series of events leading to one possibility: _Richard doesn't want to expose his criminal life rather he wants them dead by hook or crook_… But Peter won't let him win.

"Ok time to walk…come on, we have to find a way to reach home…its already late…Another hour more and El will be worried sick…walking on foot is our best chance".

"I promised her I'll bring you back", Neal told him looking straight in the eye, which was enough for Peter to know how much he cared about them. "You did good today", Peter had to acknowledge with a proud-papa grin and a pat on Neal's shoulder.

They were not out of the woods yet. Neal was exhausted, he can see that but they had to keep going even if at a considerably slower pace.

"Peter look!" Neal pointed ahead.

Peter's first thoughts were that Neal was suddenly mesmerized by the cool pink tones of twilight but then he too noticed a distant light coming their way, _most probably a car_.

* * *

Their ray of hope was short-lived as that car rushed passed them without a halt, they both waved hands for a lift or help but to no avail. "In our present state, your charms aren't inspiring enough to hail a ride", Peter made an effort to lighten the mood but it made Neal more conscious of his appearance. He started to scrub ash from his coat sleeve.

"You know, it was Bryan's best", dejected Neal.

And Peter knew this was coming anytime now, he offered a practical solution, "It is soiled! Not torn apart along with you inside, so look at the bright side. Give it for dry cleaning and it will be good as new".

They walked for an hour, maybe half until,

_-Beep Beep Beep-_

_Another one?_ They both panicked. Neal feared existence ofsome hidden explosive stuff in Peter's coat.

Peter frantically checked himself even though he knew nothing of that sort happened.

"Neal I think the voice is coming from you" so Peter checked Neal, and Neal checked himself.

_-Beep Beep Beep-_

"You remember detonating a bomb, right?" Peter asked sweating profusely.

"Yeah, but I have to see it first" Neal's condition was no different.

In their moment of panic they could hear sirens, soon two NYPD vehicles came in their range of vision, "those goons again" Neal whispered to Peter, "Yeah, this time they brought company" Peter nodded, but before they could even think of running in the opposite direction, police squads joined them with their guns pointed at Neal.

* * *

"Neal Caffrey, put your hands behind your head!... take two steps forward...you are under arrest for breaching your radius limit!"

"What?" _This was unanticipated_. Neal raised his pant leg to confirm that the anklet's light was reactivated, but blinking 'red' not 'green'. His impulsive action resulted in several guns being cocked so he did what was expected of him without ensuing further trouble.

At last they were caught by 'real' cops. He sighed with relief so did Peter, but the officers were exchanging confused looks. Peter had to explain them that he is an FBI agent and Neal is innocent, in fact a rescuer, and Neal smiled as if he deserved all applaud.

After another ten minutes waiting, in which Peter made a quick call to his wife, NYPD confirmed his designation at the FBI, they were joined by Jones and some paramedics. Neal and Peter were briefly examined for any serious injuries. Neal needed a band-aid for superficial cuts on hand while Peter was given an ice-pack for his face. Sure they look beaten.

U.S. Marshals informed Peter that they experienced power failure at the building caused by a short circuit. It took much longer to detect the fault, resulting in delayed GPRS response. For further investigation, Neal recounted the day's events for them, mentioning license plate initials of the alleged cop car and also physical description of Richard's men. Afterwards he and Peter were escorted safely to their respective destinations.

On their way Neal seemed slightly bemused, "What?"Peter asked.

To answer, Neal came within earshot of Peter and hissed, "See? My plan worked… in a mysterious way".

Peter tried to negate but no words supported him, he guessed the odds were in Neal's favor today.

**To be continued...**

* * *

A/N Hey all! I'm the backseat driver- I mean writer of the story :) Reviews will be much appreciated :)


	2. Suitcase

**Chapter 2: Suit-case**

Sitting on the couch, Peter was in constant conversation with Jones. El waited impatiently but when he remained being a workaholic, she had to grab his phone, "Enough!"

"All right", Peter raised his hands in mock-surrender.

"Let me take a look at this", her eyes were screwed in worry because by then the shiner had a purple tinge to it. She hurried to get more ice while Peter uselessly uttered consoling words as if she were the one in pain, "I'm fine Hon…it's just a bruise…could've been worse".

El pressed the ice pack more firmly causing Peter's lips to escape a slight moan. "Sorry", she passed an apologetic smile. "Tell me... you didn't catch the bad guys and what? … They punched you?" Her face wore a quizzical expression.

"No!" Peter's reply was sudden; idea of being punched by Richard's men was unbecoming. "Well, yes we didn't catch the bad guys but they didn't hit me in the face…you know I can handle that".

She nodded absently and asked with a wink "Just curious... how did you escape?"

Peter thought twice before saying "Well, you don't need to know" but how could he ignore her deep blue gaze. "Ok… I hot-wired a car… (El's screwed eye expression changed into a bewildered one) it-it was Neal's idea… I can confess everything in front of my wife… right?"

El moved closer and wrapped her arms around him, "Hon, I'm glad you're both ok and that's all that matters…" Her supportive comment offered Peter some solace. _That's why I love her.__ I don't have to go into details... s_he understands me, he inwardly reflected. But he was not the only one ruminating.

Peter could tell by his wife's excessive blinking that she was holding something as well. Soon, El gathered up the courage to overcome that awkward silence by speaking her mind,

"Perhaps… I want to make a confession too"

"Go ahead…I'm all ears" Peter ushered her to continue.

"When I was told that you have gone missing. Neal and I contacted Mozzie-".

"That, I already knew", Peter informed her, beaming.

"You did?" El was confused.

"Yup, Neal told me"

This revelation actually brought more color in her guilt stricken cheeks, "But I thought you'll overreact! … Oh God I'm so relieved", she sighed.

Peter had to tell her more for catharsis, "If it wasn't for Neal we would not have escaped…you know he's smart, he helped me throu…", and he noticed El was biting her lip... _laughing_?

"What? All right don't tell him…you know Caffrey…he can't swallow his pride…he'll keep on boasting in front of my crew and…" Peter didn't have to finish as El squeezed his hand in affirmation.

"You think I should personally thank Mozzie for saving my life?" Peter wanted El's opinion on this.

"Nope, I'll convey your regards", she said, hugging him from behind.

Peter was all set for bed when he decided to mull over recent happenings. Curiosity engulfed him, urging him to pick the disk resting safely in his coat's inner pocket. He was holding all the evidence against Richard and his gang. His laptop did not have a floppy slot nor did El's so, he visually examined it, hoping that it will miraculously reveal all data but to no avail. After tapping it on the hand for a minute, Peter placed it carefully in his briefcase. He soon realized how tired he felt… his eyes began to droop. _Whatever is inside that floppy can wait; tomorrow will be a busy day at work_ - his final thoughts before he slumbered the night away.

* * *

He woke up with his phone buzzing,

"Peter?"

_"You're still in bed? Its 8:30 on the dial!"_

"Aren't we supposed to take the day off?"

_"Is Richard in jail? No…which means you better get up and meet me in my office at nine sharp"._

"I'll be there".

When Neal tried to get himself out of bed, yesterday's ordeal made itself known. He started to experience pain in his neck so severe that he couldn't move at first. _There is no need to panic…I can do this _he motivated himself but his body parts were not complying. For Neal, impression is everything, that's how he cons people, never showing weakness whatsoever. Probably at the third attempt, he jerked forward in a sitting position, grasping both sides of the mattress so firmly that his knuckles got white. The room became steady after two spinning rounds…_at least an improvement_…he thought. Before testing his legs for support, he waited for the pain to recede- it did, to a great extent. Things came back to normal and without any further incident he managed to set out for work.

* * *

Neal stepped in Peter's office.

"You're late", Peter tried to appear stern.

"You look rested", Neal was in no mood of giving excuses, therefore the subject got changed on purpose.

"I was a bit sore but Tylenol did the trick. You tell what's up with the stiff walking?" Through the glass doors, Peter had noticed Neal being shifty when crossing the bullpen.

"Just a crick in the neck…it will pass", Neal flipped his hat while answering; a manner of letting Peter knew he was in full Caffrey-swing. Just then, Jones came walking up the stairs with a newspaper in hand, he was grinning.

"I received a written acknowledgement from the Mayor's Committee. We are teaming up with the Marshals to investigate 'Richie Rich'. You and Neal are labeled as 'endangered federal witnesses'. NYPD is already intercepted", Jones informed Peter.

"Good work Jones, but why is it funny?" Peter couldn't align his words and gestures.

"Uh, Peter have you seen today's paper?" Jones asked cutting his smile.

"Barely, I was getting late for work. Anything important I should know?" Peter still didn't get it.

"Well yes… you're in it", Jones revealed.

"**What?**" Nobody sensed Diana's presence until she snatched the paper (before Neal could do the same) and started reading aloud,

"Suspect arrested after terrorizing evening traffic, in a road rage incident, Thursday, April 25. Police spokesman, Sgt. Avery Scott reported that he was charged of first-degree criminal mischief for reckless driving and allegedly stealing a car. Blah... blah... blah…The situation is under control… Name of the accused not revealed due to security reasons. It has been assured that he will be trialed in full criminal court and put to justice. Witnesses told the police that he was armed (Diana paused to roll her eyes) and... hang on-holding a hostage?" She stared at Peter with uncertainty.

"That would be me…I was with him, but this news is clearly misinterpreted", Neal replied looking embarrassed, he felt himself being unceremoniously portrayed as a victim that somehow seemed to be depress all inflated sense of his criminal accomplishments.

When finished, Diana handed him the paper. Neal stared at the image of the stolen car accompanying that article, it was taken from a side perspective. Peter made a hazy appearance in the driver's seat encircled in red but Neal could not be seen (he was ducked down at that time).

"Peter you're recognizable", Neal said with a meaningful smirk,

"Stop it all of you!" Peter ordered, looking slightly baffled.

"I've talked to this spokesperson. He apologized...said he had to follow the protocol, something like-"

"Maintaining the integrity of NYPD", Neal formulated a complete sentence for Jones when he fell short of words. "Yeah", Jones said sounding impressed by Neal's precise narration.

"Can't believe after years of federal service, I lived to hear this... Jones, I need CCTV footage for the paths leading to that workshop. I want to know where they went" Peter reverted to investigative mode.

"Copy that" Jones nodded and left the room.

"I'm taking this... Elizabeth should know how heroic you look on the other side of manhunt", Neal sort of informed Peter while rolling up the paper.

"No, it belongs to the Bureau. Now I'll teach you morality. You have to ask like: can I take this?" Peter interrupted his motion in the manner of training a four year old.

"Fine… don't give me", Neal picked his phone and took a picture of the news. Peter didn't object, he knew his disciplinarian methods are seldom acted upon. They were heading to the conference room. But suddenly Diana decided to rake up a fresh past, "Hey Boss, when did you give Caffrey his phone back?"

Neal didn't register that he was still holding his phone following Peter's lead. He stopped dead in his tracks, so did Peter. Neal eyed Diana, made a slashing motion across his throat, but much to his dismay Peter turned around and sneered at him, "The phone…yes Neal, tell us about it"

"It's charged-", Neal interjected softly.

"I don't recall giving it back to you. And Diana it's not 'when' that we should be worried about, rather HOW?" Peter asked bitterly.

Neal gave a sheepish smile "I have my ways"

"You broke into my office and picked my locker didn't you? Or do you have a spare key?... Diana, make sure to improve security here for-"

Jones knocked at the door, "We've got the footage" and Neal breathed a sigh of relief as Peter left with Jones in toe…_at least the topic is closed for now_ he thought. Considering that Peter was beyond audible range Neal whispered to Diana "Was it all planned?". She poked his elbow, broad grin on her face

"I'm good at guessing".

* * *

Mozzie was sitting on one of the many benches in Central Park when Neal approached, "You're not even allowed a one hour lunch break? …Go FBI!"

"Hey Moz… Sorry I'm late", Neal sat beside him.

"I've heard there had been a power outage at the Marshal's office", Mozzie's lips curled up in a smile leading Neal to the exact closure.

"It was you"

"You can thank me… I planned to hack the database where your tracking information is stored, but it would've looked too obvious so… short circuiting was preferred" Mozzie told with pride.

"Security is pretty upscale there... I don't think you have the guts to enter Marshal's office alone? ...You must've needed an escort" Neal eyed him suspiciously, fearing his hypothesis to be practically true.

"Who said I entered alone?" Mozzie was silently appreciating Neal's intellect.

"Don't tell me Elizabeth participated in your **con**" Neal blurted out.

"Nobody can ignore a grieving wife. She fooled them while I was manipulating the electrical supply", Mozzie replied still unabashed.

"Do me a favor Moz, consult me before deciding to take such drastic measures" Neal said tartly, wondering the immediate consequences of Mozzie's adventurous-yet-illegitimate tour.

"Elizabeth was worried. I had to do something... Besides, I gave you two possible workshop locations. The other one was outside your radius. Y-You might have added four more years to your sentence by stepping the line. You never think before you leap, that's your problem!", now Mozzie was surely culpable because he started playing defensive.

"Does Peter know about this?" Neal inquired, dreading the probable answer.

"Mrs. Suit said she'll tell him… at the right time" Mozzie confirmed Neal's doubt.

"Power failure at the Marshal's office was not a fluke after all... He's going to be so mad at me", Neal was grumbling morosely when his phone began to ring. He showed the screen to Mozzie which read "Peter calling" and walked a few steps away to attend the call.

"All right Moz, I have to go… We have a lead on the case… meet me at my place".

* * *

Neal, Peter and Diana were gathered in the conference room. "Cop car that was after us had a genuine license plate", Peter briefed Neal.

"You were being easily chased because that patrol car had ALPR-'Automated License Plate Recognition' monitoring activated. This technology is used to track stolen vehicles or more precisely criminals on the run. Even GPRS coordinates are not needed... With camera scans, they knew you were in the vicinity", Diana said looking grim.

"My instincts were telling me that stealing a car was a bad idea but I was dragged into that". Peter shot Neal a dirty look.

"Don't pin this on me. It all started because you decided to have a gentleman's agreement", Neal couldn't easily get ticked off by him but one 'zip-it' look from Diana was enough to let that banter rest for the time being.

"What else?" Peter asked her.

"The criminal tags on ALPR are updated by the US Marshals Service, DEA, local PD organized crimes and FBI", She replied in a serious tone.

"Meaning this was a setup... Richard has access to the surveillance cameras in the workshop area. He knew in order to escape; we had to hot-wire a car… All that time we were being watched", Peter theorized all possibilities.

"So a cop car can legally target you two without being targeted", Diana seconded his logic.

Neal had a more interesting theory, "Peter it means that we're officially dead. Richard knows you suspect him. Kaboom! We're no more. It will buy us some time to figure out a better strategy".

"Easy there Sherlock … We're talking about corruption in the nation's biggest law enforcement agency. Some NYPD officers and US Marshals know we survived. We can't trust anyone", Peter stated, being rational.

"What about those imposters masquerading as cops?" Neal queried.

"Cop car was abandoned in a crowded street of Manhattan at night. No sign of them. I've requested a search warrant for the workshop... Arrest warrant for Richard can't be issued unless we have a tangible proof", Diana reported.

"Now I know why agents fear investigating a dirty cop…" Peter wondered. "Our testimony will not be counted?" He questioned Diana.

"You drove a stolen car. Neal is still a fugitive completing prison sentence. Things are a bit fishy here-"

"Neal... you with us?", Peter interpolated while Diana was explaining their dubious position in the case. He knew Neal was pondering over something much deeper, joining the dots had never been hard for him.

It took a moment for Neal to get his bearings, realizing his zoned out state didn't go unnoticed he did quick thinking to satisfy prying eyes,

"Yeah… um- so what about the floppy?"

"System is not detecting it. Either its empty or password protected", Diana hesitantly replied.

_Floppy has been a disappointment from the beginning_, Peter regretted, "In a nutshell, we're back to square one... Anyways, thanks Diana", he said, concluding the meeting.

* * *

Neal and Peter were strolling down a corridor in the Bureau. "Any plans for the weekend?" Neal sounded enthusiastic.

"Yup, you and I have a lot of paperwork to do… No-No talking… Hughes wants a full presentation on Richard. My kidnapping has triggered sudden interest in the case... U.S. Marshals and detectives from NYPD internal affairs will also be there. Don't disappoint me" Peter handed him two files "These are yours. If you can finish them here, you'll be free at home".

Hence Peter left Neal with no choice, he went to his desk and started reading. Soon words began to dance, even his neck started to bother him again. Neal was pressing his eyelids when Peter tapped his desk, "Time to go... I'll drop you at June's".

* * *

Neal entered his apartment. Mozzie was sitting at the dining table ready to play chess with him.

"Yesterday our game was disrupted by your 'suit-case'. Now is the-" Mozzie had to stop in the middle at Neal's throat clearing signal, Peter closed the door.

"Good day Suit" Mozzie carefully greeted Peter.

"What does he mean by 'suitcase'?" Peter is the kind of agent who never leaves loopholes. He had to ask Neal.

"Neal bumped his suit case... that was placed right here on the table and… m-messed up my… would be-won game", Mozzie was very much pleased with his lie which was so uncalled for. He looked at Neal for support. Neal always hate being caught in the cross fire between a fed and a con-man so he decided to back up Peter (he had an inkling that Peter might get more fidgety with Mozzie's quirkiness if he didn't intervene), "You're not making any sense…Peter, he's talking about Richard's case".

"Fine…Now you're on their side. If you want to keep burying your head in the sand, it's your choice my friend", Mozzie threw a tantrum but Neal continued, "Moz, Peter came here for some FBI assistance".

"Mr. Haversham are you free to give some advice?", Peter knew what he had to do in order to trick Mozzie (Definitely Neal laid the basic plot).

After five minutes break in which Mozzie contemplated his options, he agreed to help, "If you have no side angle in this, proceed".

Mozzie listened to the car chase story without interruption. "It means you are still delving into the unknown. I was telling you for ages that the system is corrupted". He addressed Neal in particular but Peter answered, "You can say that…Even the evidence was useless".

"What evidence?" Mozzie inquired.

"All I was able to grab from his safe was a floppy. Computer didn't read it", Neal told dismissively.

Mozzie became bug-eyed and spoke with a conspiratorial smile,"Don't you know about the 'secret floppy notebook'?"

"What the hell is this? Floppy disks are old school. Nobody gives a damn about them", Peter said.

"Exactly! That's what makes them special. I want to have a look", Mozzie demanded.

"Yeah I have it with me", Peter handed him the disk.

With the help of his thumb, Mozzie slid the floppy's metal cover to the right side, revealing some hand-written text underneath the rectangular slot. "I need a small screw driver", He asked excitedly. "Here" Neal gave his tie clip. Peter was quiet all this time staring at the job being handled.

"Floppy disks are out of market. It's considered the safest method to hide lock combinations or passwords… Just see what I do", Mozzie exclaimed. He first removed the metal cover and then pried open the plastic case to reveal a paper disc, instead of magnetic one, with several alphabets and numerical arrangements transcribed on it.

Peter gaped at him, "You've got to be kidding me".

**To be continued…**


	3. Federal Meeting

I dedicate this chapter to last1stnding who, like the pen name suggests, is a true motivator!

* * *

**Chapter 3: Federal Meeting**

"He's good", Peter said.

"Thanks!"

"Moz, he's talking about Richard", Neal corrected.

"Oh" Mozzie nodded softly.

Like three eager believers, gathered around a table trying to summon a ghost, they were engrossed in solving that paper disc mystery.

"Anagrams?" Peter asked.

"Could be…" Mozzie thoughtfully whispered.

"Moz, you have to figure this out. Can you do this one more favor?" Neal requested.

"I need some time. With you two hovering over me, I can't concentrate… and Suit, you owe me one", Mozzie said naively while adjusting his thick rimmed glasses.

"All right…take as much time as you want. But remember… only Diana and the three of us know about this floppy. Keep it that way", Peter took them in confidence in a succinct manner.

Soon afterwards, he received an SMS alert from an unknown number that enraged him.

"No federal meeting on Monday or else be prepared for the consequences", he read it aloud for Neal.

"Reply him, 'get a grip you coward!" Mozzie advised and to Neal's surprise Peter actually did text that, but received no response.

"He thinks we're getting close", Neal beamed.

"How come he knows about the meeting?", Peter muttered darkly.

Neal started considering Peter's suspicion and became more puzzled. "No idea", he replied glumly.

"I should ask Diana to trace this number. He just wants me to back off". Peter left the table and walked towards the patio to make some necessary calls. Neal made coffee for his usual guests, because he himself needed a strong cup.

After an hour Peter was ready to depart and Neal (as a friendly gesture) opened the door to see him off.

"Keep it locked", Peter couldn't keep the worry from his voice.

Neal snorted, "You're afraid he'll come after me? Peter, I haven't met him in person, although I want to",

"Just a precaution…you know he had surveillance tapes", Peter uttered while going downstairs.

Smiling, Neal was coming down to shut the door when he saw Peter talking to a man standing beside his Taurus. _Probie… fresh from Quantico, I know that kid._ Neal swiftly reached the bottom stair and anxiously waited for their conversation to end.

"Peter, one minute?" Neal called him from a distance. He drew Peter away, glancing sideways at the man and whispered, "Why is Agent Blake standing here?"

"He's for your safety and my satisfaction. He'll stay here during the weekend. There's a possibility Richard will come looking for us before the meeting, considering our daring escape".

Agent Blake waved a hand to Neal which he acknowledged with a curt nod.

"You have one 'such' agent at your house?" Neal questioned Peter crossly.

"I'm a fed myself. I had the say to reprove. But to keep you grounded, what could be better than an agent at your doorstep", Peter answered with a grin, lightly jabbing him in the chest.

"Peter I'm wearing an anklet… Ok, fine, now you doubt its functioning… I can understand but I like some privacy…it's like a house arrest", Neal babbled angrily. _Wish I could tell Peter that anklet tampering was Mozzie's fault_…he sighed.

"Think whatever you like…It's either Blake or you're staying at the FBI's safe house which according to my knowledge does not match your exquisite tastes". Peter was firm on his decision.

"Peter it's not fair! You can't do this", Neal said desperately.

"Oh I can! And if I hear that you've tricked him to leave…keep a bag ready for a trip to safe house" Peter smirked, leaving a gloomy Neal standing there.

* * *

He was alone in his apartment. Agent Blake was facilitated with a chair to sit outside the door but no inside-the-home-invitation was granted. June might have taken pity on the man but Neal took full advantage of her being out of town. He didn't even bother whether Blake's shift ended or any other agent replaced him. Peter should know he hates being benched. A long weekend awaited him full of frustration. He couldn't paint because his neck refused to tilt beyond a certain angle. Severe pain accompanied with prickling sensation in his arms and slight dizziness had banished his sleep for the time. Reading Richard's case file seemed like rubbing salt to an old wound. Not wanting to create a panic show in front of his colleagues, Neal finally decided to have a quick medical checkup on Monday, before leaving for the Bureau.

* * *

Neal was at the corner of the street trying to hail a taxi when there was a sudden distraction, his phone rang:

"Peter"

_"Neal, what are you doing at St. John's?"_

"The weather is real classy"

Just then Taurus halted in front of him and Peter said from the driving seat, "Scoot over".

After hopping in the passenger seat and tying his belt, Neal asked nervously "All this time…You were following me?"

"For the past one hour, yes" Peter replied.

"Why? I was within my radius"

"You know darn well, Occupational hazard. With you around, nothing is what it seems… like the weather here …I don't find it thrilling! What did the Doctor say?"

Taking in Peter's almost parental concerns, Neal could feel his face turning red from embarrassment, "Look, I just needed some pills to relieve my neck pain. Nothing serious…'Whiplash'… It's common in rear end car collisions. Doc said icepacks will cure it in a day" (actually the doctor had said in a week or two, plus he advised x-rays and MRI scan but Neal didn't have time for that).

* * *

Medicine kicked in before they even reached the Bureau, his kink in the neck became rather passive, face no more pale. Neal very much looked forward to the meeting. He was elegantly dressed as ever, discussing main points of the presentation with Peter when Hughes gave them both a double finger point so they mounted up the stairs to the conference room. Their audience was already there. Hughes introduced Peter and Neal to the members of other agencies who agreed to assist White Collar team on Richard's case.

"Gentlemen, this is special agent Peter Burke and his CI Neal Caffrey... Peter, meet Detective Robert Smith and Detective Sean Morris from IAB (Internal Affairs Bureau). Deputy Marshal Marc Thomas here is representing the US Marshals Service".

Peter and Neal bade them welcome by shaking hands. Peter was expecting mature people of Hughes's age for the meeting but all three of them were relatively young, giving the impression of moody college students.

"Everyone please settle down. We are about to start" Hughes announced, gesturing Peter to take the centre stage.

Peter clicked the remote to begin presentation while everyone faced the flat screen.

"Last week NYPD Internal Affairs contacted us for a case. A confidential informant agreed to turn into state's witness in an effort to reduce his prison time. He was arrested among a crew of drug traffickers with links to Portugal. While in the custody of US Marshals' witness protection programme, he told that on countless occasions he has delivered thousands of dollars in drug money to a cop... Neal-"

A passport size photo of Richard in official police uniform was presented on the slide. Neal picked up from where Peter left, "Ryan Richard, thirty six, is an NYPD officer. He graduated in criminal justice and entered the police academy in 2002. Richard is an alleged narcotics trafficker operating within New York. He is also accused of smuggling, offering protection to drug dealers in exchange of money. But where the money is laundered is still unknown".

Now it was Peter's turn to continue, "Richard worked as an undercover operative for NYPD's intelligence division… Detective Smith, will you throw light on the operations of this unit?" Peter forced Smith to participate because he was giving the odd vibes like_ i-am-wasting-my-time-sitting-here_. He was sunk back in his chair, twirling a pen between his hands, every so often quietly tapping it against the table. _Cops like these claim to protect our nation_…Peter thought.

"Sure…um-Intelligence Division sought to monitor illegal counterfeiting, drug dealing, and any criminal activity in New York… by sending cops on undercover missions", Detective Smith replied becoming more alert after Peter's sudden questioning.

"Thanks for the info… It is a common belief that this department utilizes methods that violate civil rights (both detectives from IAB clammed up coldly and Hughes gave Peter a stern look at his lack of hospitality). I'm sure NYPD contradicts such assumptions but we're looking at the broader picture", Peter stuck to his statement.

"Richard has two aliases, Steve Miller and Jason Nelson. He had permission to get valid driving licenses under these fake names" Neal informed. The next slide displayed Richard's fake passports and licenses' electronic images.

Peter took a step towards the LCD, and stated, "IAB has checked his background numerous times as his lifestyle is considered flashy for someone working on a regular salary basis. Richard wears expensive clothing..." Now the image displayed on the slideshow was a family portrait in which he was wearing silk vest, jacket, tie but fortunately no hat.

Neal averted his gaze trying to avoid all suspicious eyes- truly missing his Fedora which was not resting on his head at that moment (It was by instinct that everyone started considering Neal in Richard's shoes. Despite the herringbone patterned grey silk tie, even Neal's suit color was the same as his).

Slide changed to show Richard's place of abode, resulting in gasps and whispers from the audience. Jones and Diana were grinning; it was exactly what they did when Peter showed them those pictures for the first time, Jones even whistled then. Peter continued, "He owns a Mercedes and lives in a villa situated in Amsterdam Avenue with a private baseball field in his 13 acre backyard. But allegations against his wealth were withdrawn as he defended being rich for generations. His residence is part of the property he inherited from his father, Mr. William Richard who was our country's well-known industrialist".

Then it was Neal's turn to speak, "In 2004, Richard was demoted to ordinary patrol after similar complaints filed against his code of conduct. But he still had access to the internal police databases. Instead of protecting civilians, this cop decided to bluff them by supporting convicts and using them for his personal gain. His gang operate with bullet proof vests, NYPD raid jackets and fake badges".

Peter took over from there, "Through his years in service he became more aware of the dark side. Always used prepaid phones, tossed them when the deal was done… in short, he could not be tracked. But like every criminal, he made a glaring mistake of revealing his true identity to our witness".

"Things in the case took a dramatic turn when I decided to interrogate him. I went to his office in the police station, and told him to turn himself in as we had proof against him".

"What did he say?" Deputy Marshal Thomas asked curiously. He was not the only one; some other agents who were suppressing yawns before, became more attentive and somewhat interested in the case.

"He said he was being framed. People are jealous of his wealthy background", Peter answered.

"And?" Detective Morris looked excited.

"On my way back, I received a call from the Marshal's office that our confidential informant died of heart attack...After crossing two blocks from the police station, I was dragged out of my car at gunpoint by two masked men, they sedated me. Next thing I knew, I was tied up in a workshop with four armed men on guard", Peter told.

"I demanded pathological report of the deceased from the forensic department but they refused, saying his family didn't approve of an autopsy. Now, his body is cremated so we aren't sure whether that man died a natural death or not", Jones reported.

"Was Richard there at the workshop?" Detective Smith inquired.

"No, but those goons kept on saying that our boss will meet you soon. They destroyed my phone, took my badge and weapon…I was dead for sure till Neal arrived... and the rest you all know" Peter replied.

"Was Richard in the cop car that chased you?" Detective Smith asked with furrowed brows.

"No", Peter replied flatly.

"I still think you're looking at the wrong man. What if he's actually being framed?…I mean why would a person, born with silver spoon need drug money?" Now Detective Smith was getting on Peter's nerves.

"How would you explain the anonymous threats that I'm receiving…the cop car incident? ... or you say that the witness death was a coincidence?" Peter challenged in a raised tone.

"Believing account of a drug trafficker is not a concrete evidence. There could be any other cop, having access to internal police databases, whom we're missing…", Detective Morris opined.

"Caffrey, how did you know where Peter was taken? We've searched all area where he left his car" Hughes asked.

"Anonymous tip", Neal lied defiantly with hands in his pant pockets, Peter twitched a jaw muscle, Diana and Jones locked eyes and somehow silently figured who was the mysterious savior.

"You believe him? I mean his record is more shady than Richard's. What if he's involved?" Detective Smith intervened. Neal was loathing that guy from the start.

"I believe him", Peter said abruptly making Neal blush with gratitude.

"Caffrey doesn't like guns…he was with Peter when they were attacked", this time Hughes backed Neal which was an honor beyond imagination. He loves his team.

"I've searched the workshop area but those fake cops didn't leave a trace, not even fingerprints", Diana stated.

"What now?" Detective Morris queried.

A warehouse picture was presented on the slide.

"We have an inside man in local PD. According to our agent's report, some smugglers will be hauling merchandize from this place in Brooklyn today at 5 p.m., goods will be sold to a fence. We plan to catch Richard red handed".

"Then I believe that's it… meeting adjourned", Hughes declared.

Agents were picking their notes and files, one by one vacating the conference room, "How did it go? Surely not as I've planned", Peter asked Neal nervously.

"Unless they know about the floppy which we won't tell them and you know why" Neal whispered.

"I know…we can't tell them,… not even Hughes… till we have something solid", Peter agreed.

"Now more people are in favor of Richard… I hate that man". Neal said indicating Detective Smith as he passed by.

"They think Richard is like you…he's self conscious, well dressed...", Peter taunted Neal to lighten up a bit.

"Richard is a baseball freak", Neal's remark had the effect of making Peter more disconcerted than he already was.

* * *

Peter had his gun at the ready. They were slowly marching towards the warehouse door. He motioned Jones and Diana to move forward. They were all wearing FBI wind breakers. Like always, Neal followed their lead. Peter burst open the door with a kick and yelled,

"FBI! Stay where you-"

Peter's last word died in his mouth while the rest echoed twice- because the warehouse was empty. A mouse squeaked and ran past them, ridiculing their stunt. Silence that resonated around the space was a direct contrast with the fuming sensation in his ears, "Someone spooked him".

**To be continued…**

* * *

For your knowledge:

"Anagram is a kind of wordplay in which letters are rearranged to produce a new word or phrase, using all original letters".

IAB is the abbreviation for Internal Affairs Bureau that investigates corruption within NYPD.

Thanks for reading…next chapter is almost done but I need to refine it a little so stay tuned…

I'm really thankful for all story alerts and reviews...


	4. Face to face

Thanks to all those who are following my story.

**Warning**: Neal whump in this chapter. Its up to you if you wish to read :)

* * *

**Chapter 4: Face to Face**

"Diana, what did Hughes say?"

"Detective Smith is a nut job! Hughes didn't say that, I'm saying… your presentation failed to win conviction of NYPD"

"Why am I not surprised", Peter was pacing back and forth in his office, exasperated by another lame attempt to target Richard.

"He wants this case be given to any handler other than you… saying it was 'sloppy, incomplete and biased investigation', and that 'they were expecting better from the FBI", Diana frowned and took a seat next to Neal.

"Richard warned you to quit and now NYPD wants the same", Neal voiced his opinion, slowly rotating a paper weight in his hand.

"I know what they want…they want me to drop this case-file so that it can rot on FBI desks for years!... and Richard keeps on getting all his riches!" Peter was so flustered.

"He even thinks that you have some 'personal agenda' against Richard", Diana said.

"Personal agenda?" Peter rubbed a hand on his face. "We were positive about the Brooklyn smuggling... I can bet, an insider is working for Richard… He knew about the meeting! He knew we will raid that warehouse!" Peter was using his index finger, pointing out in midair to emphasize his viewpoint.

"See if we can access Smith's official records. I need to check credibility of this guy".

"On it boss", Diana responded and left the room.

Deputy Marshal Thomas knocked at the door and Peter gestured him to enter, "Agent Burke... take my card. If your team has a lead on the case or need any security assistance, you can freely contact me"

"Sure...Thanks", Peter forced a smile, at least a Marshal supported him. When Thomas left Peter again had that boiling sensation,

"Neal, grab Richard's cash flow statement. There's got to be some strong link that we missed…I want to see how much he paid to bribe officials".

Neal didn't protest, he tried to stand up but suddenly sagged on his seat, weak-kneed, attracting the most unwanted attention.

A sheen of sweat covered his face. Peter was definitely saying something to Neal but his eyes were tight shut, left hand pressed on the temple to avoid constant ringing in his ears. He balled his right hand into a fist to regain energy... Then there was a strong comfort arm on his shoulder, and Peter's voice didn't sound alien any more.

"Here take this"

Neal tried to turn away his face with stressed shoulders- his neck was throbbing again. "You have a cookie jar?" he said half jokingly when Peter placed it in front of him.

"Don't get used to it"

Peter felt blameworthy, Neal showed his hundred percent today but it didn't guarantee that he was perfectly ok,

"I was so preoccupied…You should've said something…"

"Peter, I am fine, really…I don't know why it happened…I think I just need to get some sleep". Neal said grouchily, dismissing the sympathy. His face was smoothly inscrutable again.

"I'm calling Jones to give you a ride. No more work for you. Take your pills and for God's sake eat something. Don't do anything stupid. I'll check your tracking data. Call me if you need anything. Are we clear?"

"Crystal", Neal replied with a sulky shrug.

"I'm thinking of contacting Thomas... for providing you secur-"

"Peter I don't need a watchman, and you're suggesting a Marshal?...please, not today"

"All right... as you say"

* * *

Neal unlocked the door, dropping his bag on the couch... he loosened his tie, took a few strides to hang his hat and suit jacket on the wall mounted expendable rack, unbuttoned and rolled his shirt sleeves to rush towards the bathroom, overcoming his urge to vomit. Under the faucet, he splashed water on the face, wet down his hair, running fingers through the strands to slick it back. By the time he came out, he was feeling less awful.

To further ease himself, Neal walked over to the patio french doors, pulled them open and inhaled the dry summer air. Night was quiet especially for west side Manhattan where muted roar of traffic is rare. A slight cloud obscured the waning crescent. He felt a shadow scuttle across him without making any sound. Considering he had become victim of an illusion, Neal ignored. He placed his hands on the stone railing and looked down. A black cargo van was parked in front of his apartment entrance- which was odd. With cautious steps he turned to go indoors but skidded to a halt on the polished hardwood floor, his eyes widening in alarm -

"Please don't shoot", Neal yelled in a reflex.

A masked man barged in with a shotgun and forced him into the wall, three others came out of walk-in closet. Neal glanced over his shoulder. They were rummaging through his studio apartment; deranging furniture, knocking paintings off the walls.

"You're looking for something?…you can ask me, seriously it will save you time and effort" Neal pretended to be blank of emotion, swallowing against the gun pressed under his jaw, silently repenting his denial for Marshal's security plan. A wrought iron candle stand was being used to roughly pull out books from the shelves,

"Don't! These books have historical value-"

Neal soon regretted his words;after weighing his statement, they chuckled and began ripping pages apart, flying them all around the space. A green vase placed on the fireplace mantel was the next target, Neal couldn't stand it any longer-

"Listen you don't have to do this…Please don't, its fine china. I don't have much money…" His voice was slightly choked by the muzzle of the gun pushed against his throat. He kept on gibbering but they turned a deaf ear, just snatched and hurled things furiously to the ground. Neal was quite sure they were not the burglars or robbers he's talking to. _Maybe just maybe they are… _he hoped.

Lamps were smashed, remnants of wine glasses and plates cluttered the floor. Neal was helpless, thinking of what June would say?... he could not imagine being kicked out of his home because some paid intruders decided to have a little play time- ruining his life.

Neal earnestly tried to think any clever move but a rag was pressed over his mouth and nose, he wilted without protest. Just before his mind went numb, he heard someone saying, "We're done… let's get out of here!"

* * *

His drug-soaked brain started responding. Sense of feeling…he could feel his wrists and ankles...they were tightly wrapped; he was sitting in a chair, his mouth… _it's covered with duct tape_. He must've tried to shift a little because a polite voice greeted him,

"Welcome back Mr. Caffrey! I thought they've given you a lethal overdose".

Neal's blue eyes dart around, eventually his vision started setting on a nose, freckles, beady eyes, brown hair, gaunt face...expensive clothing. His heart skipped a beat at the man crouched in front of him.

* * *

Duct tape was forcefully peeled off-

"Officer Ryan Richard!…pleasure meeting you…I could've shaken hands but-"

Neal tried to free his wrists in vain, he glanced at other faces surrounding him- _Those goons again- _He recognized four of them_- _"Hey! I never thought we'll be meeting again... this soon", He weakly attempted to socialize.

Neal sensed Richard move, his mind was still swaying. When he managed to slit open his eyes Neal saw him sitting in a leather back chair, interlocked fingers placed behind the head, elbows stretched, his feet (shod in Italian leather) resting on a desk. They were in a small room, seemingly bigger for a van's interior. Neal's chair was opposing Richard's,a lighting fixture hanging directly above the desk while goons bordered the vacant space.

"Oops! Burke made a wrong call today… I had a better deal with the fence...Can you believe 30,000 dollars! for giving him two trucks of colognes from 'another' warehouse! Ah, I won't tell you the place…FBI will never be able to trace that", Like an adventure story teller, Richard boomed.

"You think you're invincible?" Neal said with his head bowed down. Richard didn't comment, just transfixed his gaze on Neal, without changing his posture.

Neal looked around with squinted eyes, "So this is your private torture cell?"

"Don't worry…I might spare your life, if you cooperate", Richard coolly replied.

"This is all you have on me?" Richard looked tense. He showed Neal two files- the ones Peter had given him to study. Richard's men might have fumbled them out of his bag in the apartment.

"I can't see properly" Things were still running in a slow motion for Neal.

"Better?" Richard said exposing him to intense flash of light.

"Ow! That hurts!"

Neal fully came to his senses. In fight-or-flight mode, his options were rather limited.

"I was looking forward to see you and here you are-" Neal dared to paste his usual smile but Richard was quite unmoved. He slapped his bony palms on the desk with such force that it rattled, but when he muttered through gritted teeth Neal had to lean forward to decipher his words,

"Answer me".

"Yes, I think that's all... Look I'm not the trustworthy kind. They-They don't let me into covert matters. I'm afraid you've got the wrong guy" Neal tried to stall, the rising panic in his chest kept on drumming the beat- _I'm about to die_

With an eye shrug, Richard gave a derisive snort, pushed four files across the desk, picked one of them and flipped the front cover, revealing Neal's photo, paper-clipped at the side, "I know who you are…see? FBI had two on me… I have four".

"What can I say...My reputation precedes me…", his mind was racing. Neal had to keep the dialogue going to avoid an early death.

"Life is a gamble. You're a living proof of that...escaped from prison, got caught by Burke... proved your loyalty to the FBI... escaped from workshop saving Burke! but here you are... caught again...this time by a 'cop'?"

People in the background chortled. Neal on the other hand clenched his jaw to suppress inner rage.

Now Richard was viewing his own file, "I like the nickname Burke has given to the case- Richie Rich",

"Yeah… It was before FBI ID'd you. We had one file on a dirty-cop but NYPD made it easier to judge it was you. It's kinda funny though…Richard is Richie Rich… Catchy name wins half the battle".

Neal paused, considering what he had just said. _I'm panicking…_ He didn't want to say it that way. It sounded rude. He tried to jerk his ankle, he could feel his tracking anklet, _C'mon Peter_.

Richard read his mind, or maybe Neal had uttered Peter's name aloud."In case you're wondering Burke will come looking for you... Apparently, you're within your radius, and more interestingly at home. But it's eleven at night, he would be sound asleep", he smirked.

"I'm impressed by your daring tactics... Deliveries of drug money in a cop car... Fake raids without blowing your cover". _Flattery might work._ Neal thought but his insides plummeted,_ I'm about to die._

"Oh! I know how to make an official raid…just make it look like a sting", Richard whispered with a wink, folding his hands together on the desk."You know what money can do? It can buy people. You can't judge how many are working for me already".

"Ryan you were good. What happened? Why you become self-absorbed boss who demanded more money than required?" This strategy always worked in Neal's previous undercover assignments. You have to emotionally blackmail the suspect but Richard was not the usual kind.

He simply snickered, "I've heard you can sweet talk your way out…that's why I want you to work for me".

"Excuse me?" Neal was confused.

"You have to convince Burke to leave my case…"

_A chance of survival...something to talk about..._"What's my catch in this?" Neal said raising his eye brows in question.

"You think you are in position to make a deal?" Richard almost laughed, "One bullet in your head and you become history…"he snapped.

Neal made an indifferent face, "I know you can't kill me…coz if I die, you'd be number one on the suspects list".

Steepling his fingers, Richard replied,

"You're right. I have bigger plans...If you say 'no', Burke will die, that short guy who came to meet you day before yesterday would be no more…could be a hit and run... or a cardiac arrest...what do you say?… but if you agree, I'll let you all live…we'll be square...No offence-none taken sort of thing".

Face flushed with anger, Neal made the decision, he didn't have to think twice,

"Fine... I'll do as you say".

"If you cheat, i'll know in a second. Don't dare to con me" Richard was boring his eyes into him.

"I won't" Neal managed not to blink- a silent oath he had to keep up till Richard was satisfied.

After a moment's silence-

"Tell me... have we met?" Richard asked meaningfully.

"What? Yes.."

"Tell me! have we met?" Richard repeated stressing each word.

Neal understood what he wanted him to say,

"No"

"Good, I think we're done…Oh! one last formality, Michael, you ready?" At Richard's command, one of the goons-bald one came forward clapping something huge on his hand-

"That's a baseball bat! I-I know you have a soft spot for baseball… Y-You wan't me to play catch? But this setting is rather uncomfortable-" Neal shook his head, dumbfounded.

"Just show some sportsman spirit... accept penalty",

Richard said with a twisted smile.

"But-"

Another man came forward and gagged Neal. Bald one raised the baseball bat over his head and Neal tightly closed his eyes. Bat came crashing down onto his arm. Neal leaned forward and yelled in pain but only a muffled sound came out. They hit Neal again, same place and he fell off the chair, curled up on the floor.

Richard moved closer, crouched down in front of him, grabbed his hair. His strong arm seized Neal around the neck, pulling him upright, "This is a reminder…stop digging, you understand stop digging!".

Neal was wincing with tear shed eyes. Gosh his neck was being touched right where it shouldn't be. It was stretched beyond its normal elasticity. He screamed till his vision blurred.

"You know where to dump him", Richard referred to one of his men who nodded and Neal felt himself fall in the bliss of dark not only due to the pain he suffered but because he was forced to inhale through a wet sponge that clogged up all air.

* * *

Dogs bark when they sense their owners to be in some kind of threat. Satchmo never barks after midnight. Such loud and sharp howling? It was not very upbeat like when he is excited or being an attention seeker. It seemed highly unlikely- depicting anxiety, fear of the unknown.

Peter was unwilling to acknowledge all disturbance but finally, he recovered the power of motion. Flinching, his first act was to turn on the side lamp and draw forth alarm clock to look at the time. It was quarter to one. El got out of bed searching for her slippers. Peter raised a palm, extricating himself from the tangled sheets to accompany her and check himself what's going on before that barking goes quickly from nuisance to nightmare, alerting their neighbors. With eyes still half shut from sleep, he opened the bedroom door,

"What? …You sure you want to take a stroll at this hour of night?" Peter mumbled, bending down, slowly stroking Satchmo's back but he stayed there, panting, beckoning him to come. Peter didn't know why a nervous apprehension overwhelmed him; he picked up his revolver from the nightstand and resolved to go after his dog. _This can't be good,_ sensing a tense feeling in the air, he descended the stairs and summoned the courage to slowly open the backyard door,

Neal was lying face down on the grass. Peter hurried, stowed his gun and turned him over. He barely looked alive. Peter noticed his clothes were rumpled, bruising on the wrists, misshapen arm obviously broken...

"EL CALL 9-1-1!" Peter bellowed while checking for a pulse.

It was not Satchmo's barking that caused the lights to glow in the neighborhood but Peter's unsuccessful and relatively strident efforts to wake Neal.

**To be continued…**


	5. Untimely disclosures

**Chapter 5: Untimely Disclosures**

Peter was not overreacting. In the ambulance, Neal's pulse rate dropped to a critical level. After seventy five minutes of terrible wait (in which Peter filled necessary paperwork, temporarily removed the tracking anklet for some tests), Neal regained consciousness. He was exposed to high concentration of a drug named 'Xylene', things escalated from there. However, the doctor reassured Peter and Elizabeth that his condition was stable.

With soft cervical collar and upper right arm fitted in the cast, Neal tried his best to smile that soon turned into a grimace, pain was not letting his lips turn. Nasal cannula and IV port inserted in the crook of his free arm made him look more like an 'invalid'.

"I knew you'll find me", Neal croaked. Peter was having a hard time grasping the scene, of all people he had never imagined Neal adorned with medical supplies, so his first greeting was very Peter-ish, "You look like hell".

"Feel the same" Neal replied, lines on his forehead speaking volumes. The doctor stepped in followed by Elizabeth who quickly walked towards the hospital bed and began smoothing Neal's hair back from his forehead. "Stupid question but, how are you feeling?"

"Not good…Peter really has bad bedside manners".

"Did he tell you to cowboy up?" Elizabeth asked, dangerously eyeing her husband.

"Was close enough", Neal complained, giving Peter all excuses to become less sympathetic towards him.

Neal's doctor was busy reading his chart,"So what's the verdict?" Neal asked but Peter felt more inclined to reply. "In case you haven't noticed, you're having a fractured arm and wearing a neck brace". Elizabeth shushed him, making him realize that he should be using soothing words that don't leave an alarming impact on their so called patient. Neal moved his eyeballs to see his arm, "Baseball bat", he murmured.

"Two months for your arm to be intact", the doctor said with a consoling smile.

"Two months", Neal groaned.

"MRI test confirmed C6 –radiculopathy, cervical disc herniation".

It appeared Peter was not the only one with bad bedside manners. Sensing their nonplussed expressions and silent reproaches, the doctor simplified his diagnosis, "There is nerve root compression in his neck… In layman language you can say a Jell-O like substance is present in between our neck discs. In Mr. Caffrey's case some of it leaked through and is now irritating a specific nerve tissue. Depending on its location it would seldom cause him pain in shoulders, neck and arms... Slight dizziness, numbness and nausea are also common but with proper pain medication it won't affect his routine activities". Peter and Elizabeth still considered it to be something serious. Neal had experienced almost all of the symptoms before; he didn't want them to become 'worrywarts', as they already had enough on their plate. It was time to let his intuition guide him to take their minds of his current prognosis.

"How long do I have to wear this collar?" Neal directly spoke to the doctor, being discussed in third person was discouraging for his self esteem. "I would say two days maximum. It's for early healing. Prolonged immobility may affect your muscles. I strongly recommend that you complete two weeks session with a chiropractor. Don't take it lightly. You're lucky at this stage it's curable without surgery". He wrote something on his chart and left.

"Crick in the neck huh?" Peter snarled but his face showed deep concern.

* * *

Neal attempted to keep appearances by staying awake as long as possible. Morphine made him lousy; his memories were swallowed in a haze. People kept on wavering in his vision. Neal remembered flashes of Elizabeth bringing a bouquet, Diana worriedly looking at him, Jones patting his leg, talking to him, a nurse checking his IV bag, Peter pacing in the room, sleeping in the chair with his mouth wide open (Neal wanted to throw a joke but was too lethargic to speak), some cops talking to Peter…

Squinting slightly, Neal managed to flutter his eyes open, forehead glistened with sweat, he scanned the hospital room, "What time is it?" Neal rasped through parched lips. "Seven at night…here" He sipped some ice chips from a paper glass that Peter was holding. _He felt so thirsty and tired_. "Can I leave now?" Neal tried to get up but only his fingers moved. Peter squeezed his shoulder,"hey hey don't move! Your vitals are good so far but you have to spend the night here to be sure". Neal's mind started to assess things. Peter should know what had happened…

"Peter, he-"

"Just try to relax. We can talk about it later". Acting on Elizabeth's instructions of 'not stressing out Neal till he gets better' Peter encouraged him to sleep.

* * *

The next morning when Peter entered his room, Neal was mostly back to his old self. Nasal cannula and IV were not needed anymore. Flat orientation of the hospital bed made him restless so Peter pivoted head section of the mattress platform on his request.

"I didn't do anything stupid…even kept the door locked", Neal said, keeping his eyes downcast.

'I know'

"June?"

"She's worried about you. I called her not to come back for-"

Peter broke off at a flurry of commotion by the door. He caught sight of Detective Smith striding purposefully in the corridor, accompanied with Deputy Marshal Thomas.

"What's wrong with these people? They are insisting on having a first person account. I told them yesterday that you're not in a condition- Wait... Let me handle this"

Peter marched off the room to negotiate but came back losing the battle. Neal was mentally prepared for such regulatory chaos. Detective Smith started with typical 'what happened' question. Arms crossed, Peter was standing next to the wall, Neal was glad he stayed.

"It was a misunderstanding. My land-lady is away… robbers believed I'm the owner"

"Did they steal anything?"

"They were more interested in cash. I told them I don't have much", Neal's reply was true to some extent.

"How come you ended up at the Burkes? We've seen traffic cam footage; a cab driver dropped you there"

Neal didn't know that part, perplexed, he eyed Peter to confirm, but Peter was looking stony, coloring up red, somewhat more interested in a floor tile than Neal's statement. "I was drugged, details are a little vague", Neal preferred to play safe.

After asking about his injuries, how many people were involved in the robbery, any names he would like to specify, Detective Smith finalized his paperwork and left the room without acknowledging Peter's existence."We might contact you in future. Get well soon", Deputy Marshal Thomas wished Neal in a manner of fulfilling his professional custom after interrogating a victim.

Peter remained silent till the footsteps died away. "Thanks to you, now they'll think I'm mentally unstable", he grumbled.

"You told them it was Richard?" Neal tried to ask in a mocked fashion but completely failed.

"You were left dead at my door! Do I need another explanation? Why is it so hard for you to tell the truth?"Peter's anger was justifiable. After an awkward pause Neal had to succumb. He spoke with an air of forcing himself to admit something unpleasant, "Alright, Richard paid a friendly visit… He didn't mean to kill me".

"I can see how friendly it was" Peter said icily "Why telling me now?"

"Peter, he threatened to kill you or Moz if we continue our investigation", Neal replied, still refusing to look at Peter.

"He knows about Mozzie?"

"You were right. He was surveilling me, has part of my alleged criminal record, He told me officials are working for him".

"Damn it Neal! This all could've ended if you named him. With charges of attempted kidnapping, burglary with assault, Richard would be in custody by now. This case would be over for good without anyone else getting hurt. You've messed things up".

"Peter we've given a statement before. It didn't make much of a difference", Neal said glancing at him.

"But this might work in our favor. Richard tortured you to get to me. Now what do you want me to do, huh?" Peter growled.

"A glass of water would be nice", Neal winced as his pain levels surmount once again. In his exasperated state, Peter totally forgot that Neal was still in a hospital, convalescing from injuries that were not his fault. Neal greedily sipped the water and continued,

"You drop the case"

Peter shook his head calmly, "not happening".

Neal snorted impatiently. "They beat the crap out of me so that I can convince you!", he surmised.

"You're playing his cards", Peter was not buying any of it. Neal knew persuading Peter would be an impossible task but worth the try,

"Listen, I had a lot of time to think. We were moving too fast. I give my statement, Richard goes to jail for how long?- a few months?... or I lie for the time being, Richard stays free, we let him lose his guard, you recover the money and people working with him".

"You mean-"

"-yes, you officially leave his case. We'll put together a sting without informing NYPD, that's how Richard operates", Neal insisted.

"I don't like the sound of any of it" Peter refused to share his optimism but at least he listened.

Elizabeth came in the room with a duffel bag in hand. "Good news! You're discharged. I brought you some comfortable clothes to wear… guest room is all set, you're coming home with us…"

"I appreciate it…but there's no need-"

"Your apartment is a crime scene!", Peter reminded Neal, "Jones will bring over some of your stuff after clearance" Slipping under his arm Peter hauled him to a sitting position. Neal carefully swung his legs off the bed and stood up. "My home is your only option for staying, I doubt your intentions even with your arm in a sling", Peter said pointedly.

* * *

Peter made sure that Neal will not be doing anything daring under his watchful eye. Reaching home, Neal was warmly welcomed to the guest room by Satchmo. He was told how the dog efficiently contributed to his rescue. Neal thanked by petting him on the head and received a waggling tail in response. Neal started feeling groggy after the car ride, Peter placed his medicine at the side table with a glass of water, waste bucket was drawn nearer in case Neal's stomach contents decide to come out abruptly. Wearing loose-fitting track-pants and an oversized sweatshirt, his stance was casual. But it didn't matter because Peter was also not formally dressed.

"Peter, you took the day off for me? I'm touched" Neal teased.

"Don't think highly of yourself…First May, my official holiday! Don't make it complicated. You rest here, some guests are coming. I don't want my CI to create a scene by tumbling off the stairs. If you want something just give a shout".

"Guests from the office?" Neal called out while Peter was going downstairs.

Peter ignored the question which meant Diana and Jones were unofficially invited. Neal tried to show his best behaviour by staying in bed but he was getting irritated by his decreased range of motion. It seemed like clammy hands clasp around his neck, soaked up all sweat like a swab and kept it there. Reason warred impulse, plan changed, Neal managed to stand without needing Peter's support. He could hear Peter talking to someone _probably Diana._ They were discussing how Richard's men entered his apartment. He clung to the banister, at the bottom of the staircase, to overcome fatigue. Two bags were placed near the entrance. _Jones might've brought my things and left._ Diana was telling Peter that the goons rappelled down through a skylight, security cameras didn't detect them. Neal imagined their possible entry route.

"Sonic glasscutters…"

"Neal what are you doing here?" Peter asked.

"With sonic glasscutter you can make an entrance hole in a skylight"

"That's not what I've asked. Doc said you have to take it easy for a few days. Go and rest".

"I've been resting and resting. Staring at the blank ceiling was getting monotonous. What are you up to? I can help". He ignored Peter's glares and sat on the couch next to him.

"You look less grey than the last time I saw you", Diana smirked.

"Thanks, I feel a lot better now", Neal flashed his usual smile in return. She showed them the footage of unconscious Neal being dragged out of a cab car. "Michael!… Peter this one beat me with a baseball bat. Richard called him Michael", Neal remembered.

"I'll check his name. I'm sure there would be a lot of Michaels but we'll figure this out", Diana assured.

"Any recent unknown messages?" Neal questioned. "After the meeting we didn't do anything to displease him", Peter sulked tersely.

"Or the news has reached him via unidentified channel that we're leaving his case...One good thing, Richard doesn't know about the floppy yet", Neal felt more cheered at the thought.

"I knew from the start, a drug dealer's witness couldn't convince the authorities…It's the only solid evidence we could lay our hands on… You said you retrieved it from his safe, right?", Peter asked Neal.

"Hmm"

"Safe must be at the workshop…" Peter wondered.

"Boss, there was no safe at the workshop. I carried out search operation myself" Diana informed him, deliberately bringing Neal in the spotlight.

"Neal, am I missing something here?"

"You never asked where that safe was located". He answered Peter's glowering with an innocent look but his voice trailed away.

Peter huffed, and addressed Diana, "Did Neal accompany you to the police station after my kidnapping".

"Yes, but he stayed in the waiting area saying he doesn't have happy memories associated with the place"

"Richard met you in his office?"

"No, he was not at the police station when we reached".

"Where did he go?" Peter asked.

"Officer in charge said he had a patrol duty", Diana replied.

Peter straightened, narrowing his eyes, "Neal"

"Peter" He mimicked knowing all too well he was cornered.

"How many times did I tell you that we're not going to break into Richard's office even if we don't have a clue what he's up to?…enlighten me!"

"I jumped in through the window and searched his desk drawers and safe", Neal told him with a smirk.

"Were you out of your mind?" Peter was horror-struck, Neal and his grey areas truly have no boundaries.

"It worked!" Neal quickly justified his effort "safe was empty except for this floppy"

"Security cameras in his office?"

"None…Richard likes privacy"

"Another similarity you share with him" Peter quipped.

Diana was listening to the whole argument without interruption; Neal had yet to face some more bickering, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You said you'd break my neck if I leave that bench".

"I believe it was destined to be broken after all", she snapped.

"It's not brok-"

"Enough you two!…Neal, any other half truth or incomplete confession that I should know about?" Peter eyed him irately. Neal narrowed his eyes, "I think that's it…Um I better be going to my room...to rest".

His decision was in the best interest of all.

* * *

The next time Neal woke, it was to find a black pair of glasses perched mere inches above him.

"What the-?...Moz you should have knocked" Neal said, looking up at him angrily, wincing due to the pain shot through his muscles at sudden movement.

Mozzie's 'freeze-up' expression normally meant he was having a social communication issue. Still adamant of the fact that he somehow landed in the 'sick people' category, Neal had to cast something around to keep him talking,

"Any progress with the paper disc?" he inquired, hoping for a positive response.

"I'm using my resources but they are still numbers and letters with no inter-connection"

"Keep looking…Have you been to my place?

"It's occupied by Feds! And you know what they do to people like me. They'll arrest me under false pretenses".

"C'mon Moz"

"Been there" Mozzie nodded, "for June…Oh and I have a lead, they purposefully destroyed poetry books- you think Wordsworth has anything to do with the case?"

"No, I saw them…those books were arranged together in the shelf, they threw them on the floor in one go and then started tearing pages to provoke me".

"Amateurs! Don't worry, I'll be able to mend them. No serious damage done… apart from the crockery, which we can easily replace and of course vases and lamps. June says she doesn't mind monetary loss, she's glad you survived… By the way, Suit told me you couldn't hit a home run"

"Are you being sarcastic?" Neal asked with a tone of disbelief.

"You can say…Have you looked into the mirror lately?"

"It's not funny Moz, baseball bat hurts pretty bad".

"You know what, you can make an insurance claim", Mozzie suggested.

"What?"

"Personal injury lawsuit, that's what I'm talking about… you just have to give me full record of the incident and your medical treatment file-"

Peter popped his head in the room, "Later" Mozzie whispered to Neal.

"El is calling downstairs, dinner is ready…Neal you can have it here", Peter said.

"Nah, I'm coming... Moz, give me a hand"

* * *

He seemed to be in a state of great anticipation after dinner but Peter was ostentatiously showing no interest. Neal was once again forced to rest (this time by Elizabeth), he opted for the couch instead of guest room. His head was tipped back against the pillow, and the back of his left hand rested over it. Peter, Mozzie and El were still on the dining table having a beer, some files were placed in front of Peter, he was studying Detective Smith's.

"Diana brought these?...You're right we have to stake out all potential targets" Neal said in a willing to please style.

"Neal, you better sleep and let me work. I haven't forgiven you…" Peter retorted without looking at him.

"Finding the co-conspirators will lead you to the ring leader!" Mozzie added excitedly.

"Be careful…Richard might come after you", Peter said to Mozzie.

"I live in dangers Suit, currently staying at one of my safe houses...I don't want to mention the name".

Elizabeth opened a file, "He is Richard?"

"Hmm…"

Resting chin on her palm, she critically examined the picture, "I've seen this man somewhere…"

"Burke Premier Events ever arranged a party in 13 acre baseball field?" Peter queried.

"No"

"Then you must be mistaken. He couldn't be one of your clients"

"At the Marshal's office!" She exclaimed. Mozzie slopped most of his drink down his front.

"What?" Peter was taken aback. His head swiveled back and forth between them.

"I've seen this man at the Marshal's office" Elizabeth repeated, slightly confused why Peter was not getting that.

"Neal you can't do this to me!…" Mozzie roared looking utterly bewildered giving Peter the hints to put two and two together. For Neal, it was easiest to feign sleep.

**To be continued...**

* * *

_The clues are dangling invisibly somewhere in the air, Neal's risky effort to grab the floppy shouldn't be an exercise in futility..._

Only one more chapter to go...thanks for reading :)


	6. Jason Nelson

**Chapter 6: Jason Nelson**

Mozzie is bound to make his life difficult in an odd way, instead of joining guilty party on the dining table, Neal kept his eyes closed and ears sharp. For the first time blame was being tossed to and fro, without him being in the middle. Elizabeth was handling situation very well, convincing twitchy clients must have added to her experience. She told Peter the true story of how she distracted security personnel appointed to view surveillance footage in the Marshal's office while Mozzie disconnected electrical supply for Neal's sake.

"Well, he didn't attract my attention, but a formal briefcase exchange in the back alley did. In the live video I saw him giving it to a Marshal who opened it to confirm what's inside. Both of them were behaving cautiously… What? Hon, living with you for more than a decade I know when things are a bit suspicious. Richard left but that Marshal walked in the office, leaving money in his car...Wait, Mozzie had the surveillance tape"

"I don't have it right now!", Mozzie said hastily, "you have to wait till tomorrow"

"Great! You even have the tape! why was I wasting my time at the Bureau when this case could be solved within my home…"Peter scoffed. "Hon, we're targeting Richard because he sees himself as outside the rule of law…How do you explain your actions! huh?"

Elizabeth didn't say anything,

"Did you steal that tape?" Peter sternly asked Mozzie.

Before he could reply Elizabeth came to his rescue,"It was my idea… you've also done it before"

Peter never thought that even such a little crime committed in the past could come back to haunt him, he'd crossed the line to save Neal from imprisonment- _so did El and Mozzie...They mean well..._

Elizabeth had hit a nerve, there was pin drop silence during which Mozzie excused himself to leave. After locking the door, Peter made his way towards the couch and sat on the arm rest.

"Neal you can open your eyes now… My wife just identified our prime suspect"

Neal could not pretend any longer, part of it was excitement, he wanted to know what Elizabeth witnessed,

"I didn't know the whole part" he grumbled and Peter believed him. In Neal's case his intuition works better than a lie detector. Elizabeth was checking the rest of files on the table when Peter turned towards her and asked, "Can you describe that Marshal?"

"How to describe? He was normal looking…Yes it's him!" She raised the file for Peter to see.

"Deputy Marshal Thomas?" Neal interrupted.

"But he's all clear. Appointed four years ago. Pays all taxes, holds a valid badge" Peter replied, he had already read his file.

"In our case, witness suffered a heart attack on Richard's orders. Thomas was late to the Marshal's office, maybe he performed the deed and got tons of money in return" Neal proposed, _And we kept on blaming Detective Smith_…

"Hmm…I think you're right, he offered us security, was there at the hospital when you gave your statement." Peter said "Of course, you were the easier target without looking suspicious… Richard didn't come to you. They manipulated your anklet. It's easier for a Marshal, you were taken somewhere".

Peter looked at him and revealed, "I gave Thomas copies of Richard's case files after the meeting"

Neal was startled, "I thought Richard's men took them out from my bag".

"If surveillance footage shows his contact with Richard, we'll be able to arrest him and retrieve further information on the gang…" Peter continued, "We have to act before NYPD set the trap".

"Peter… play nice and slow. Richard will know if we arrest Thomas".

"What do you suggest? We wait till Richard makes his next move?" Peter asked in a pensive mood, "It won't be anytime soon, he's alert that FBI and NYPD suspect him...I don't want to make a wrong call this time"

Neal didn't answer right away, his mind was reliving his encounter with Richard,

"_Burke made a wrong call today… I had a better deal with the fence...Can you believe 30,000 dollars! for giving him two trucks of colognes from 'another' warehouse! I won't tell you the place…FBI will never be able to trace that",_

"_I know how to make an official raid…just make it look like a sting"_

"Colognes!" Neal exclaimed.

"What?"

"Monday evening, Brooklyn warehouse…" Neal said "we were informed of would-be smuggling".

"But it was a goose chase", Peter huffed.

Neal slightly shook his head, "Richard told me he had a better deal with the fence. You have to check for any fake raid in cologne warehouses".

"Maybe he lied...how could he slip such info?"

"No, I've seen his face…"

"Then we start from here" Peter nodded, "Ask Mozzie to spread the word as well",

"You have to check recent cash amount deposited in his bank account… Richard got 30,000 dollars for delivering two trucks to the fence…" Neal informed Peter.

"Diana can do that"

* * *

Mozzie remained true to his word. Tape was handed to Peter the very next morning. Two days passed without any activity. Mozzie teamed up with Elizabeth to make sure that Neal took his medicines regularly. Both of them stayed longer than usual, taking turns with excuse of watching movies or playing chess but Neal knew they were acting on Peter's orders to keep a check on his deeply ingrained habit of taking matters in his own hands. Even Satchmo seemed to participate in their mission.

Neal attended his first appointment with the chiropractor, more to convince Peter that he was ready for work. Except for the side bending exercise, Neal reacted well to all neck treatments. Peter was briefed that patients gradually improve their muscle motion, and as a beginner, Neal did good.

His arm might be broken but his dignity was still intact. Neal can't do anything bereft of style, not even attend social obligations or meetings at the Bureau with a white cast (already signed by Diana, Jones and Elizabeth) so with Mozzie's help, a peculiar order was placed online.

* * *

With a stylish black arm sling matching his suit pants and tie, prized fedora on his head, Neal waited for him in the Taurus. Peter was happy to see Neal without a collar and back to his bouncy self, but he decided it against his better judgement to allow him to come to the office.

Entering the Bureau, Peter could foresee the troubled two months he had to face. Neal couldn't type a report, or do any paperwork, so he planned to enjoy the privileges of a fractured right arm by slaughtering innocent agents to do his job. Whenever Peter discovered his current victim, he had already found a new mark lined up. Peter came to jeer at his desk, "Why is Blake working on the Medical scam file I'd given you to study?"

"It's mediocre, he was willing to help…I had other things on my mind" Neal said "Hey Susan, can you bring me a cup of coffee, thanks",

"No Susan stay there…You come with me", Peter ordered.

With alacrity in heart, Neal entered Peter's office and took a seat "I need to know about those 'other things'…Any lead on Richard?" Peter inquired.

"What do you know about his father, William Richard?" Neal asked, placing a folder on the desk.

"He owned the best food processing plant in United States. After his death, much of the legacy was bequeathed to his son, making him the wealthiest man- but you are aware of that".

Neal showed him all statistics. "Ryan Richard did not follow in the footsteps of his illustrious father. After 9/11 the company suffered major economic downturn. Most of the shares were lost. It was close to bankruptcy in 2004 but shares were doubled in months... I think Richard junior played a major part", Neal suggested.

"Why didn't we notice that before…" Peter's eyes twinkled "well, this explains the craving for drug money…But Diana checked Richard's personal bank accounts. They reveal no recent cash deposits"

"You know he's too smart for that" Neal said "Instead of using wire transfer or writing a check, he paid Thomas in cash to avoid data entry in his financial records"

"I'm tired of this flip flopping" Peter sighed.

Peter could sense the invisible 60 watt lightbulb appearing over Neal's head. He doubted whether his words had something to do with it. Neal raised his fears to an alarming extent by asking permission to leave.

"Can I cut out early?"

He knew by Neal's demeanor that he was concocting a scheme, Peter decided not to get tricked by the trickster, he was about to say no but altered his mind, "Sure".

As soon as Neal left, he pulled out Neal's tracking data on his computer to be certain.

* * *

Peter finally got his call. Knowing well where Neal went, he bemused,

"You missed Satchmo's company in the office?"

"I'm standing at the ledge of a roof" Neal whispered.

Peter stood abruptly, dropping a few files from the desk, and receiving anxious stares from the bullpen. He was unable to respond, waiting for Neal to tell more-

"Just kidding, you can sit down"

Now Peter wanted to slap him, "It wasn't funny" he said catching his breath.

"You worry too much Peter"

"And you never seize to amaze me…So, you are at my house" It turned out to be more of a question.

"Yup with Elizabeth and Moz, planning a wonderful lunch…you want to join us?… according to Moz, we got a breakthrough on '_bullies with badges'…"_

"This better be important…I'm coming"

* * *

Paper disc was placed on the table for Peter to have a closer look.

"Bank names with account numbers never mentioned in Richard's financial statements. Twelve of them" Neal told with a smug face. "For example-"He pointed a pen at the first combination waiting for Peter to guess:

BOFA0124357823

"Bank of America" Peter smiled coyly, "Floppy hit the jackpot"

Neal raised his brows, giving him 'I-told-you-so' look.

That was not all. Moz turned out to be cherub for the job, "I got some news on a cologne warehouse. Source is unclassified".

"I'm calling my team. This will end today" Peter was getting excited.

"You think Richard's given up on us?" Neal queried.

"Why do you ask?"

"One tiny problem- my anklet. Thomas might track my moves"

"I can solve this problem…You're not coming with me".

"Wait, you can't go there flashing your badge" Mozzie intervened. "They fear Suits"

"We know the place, you have the key...just disengage my anklet and keep it in the office for a while…I can wear a GPRS watch"

"All right, seems like you two have planned everything" Peter reluctantly agreed.

* * *

Near 3 p.m., Mozzie, Neal and Peter were outside a warehouse at Queens. It was more of an undercover work so Peter kept his distance, he didn't ask which story Neal and Mozzie fabricated to gain trust of the employees but it paid off. Peter was allowed to join the club as a federal agent."They were unloading new stock when four officers entered with police badges hanging in their necks", Neal briefed Peter.

"They didn't act like cops. One of them started calling our names from a list he had", A petrified employee informed Peter. Soon his colleague also participated in the discussion."They said we were charged with the allegation of selling knockoff merchandise. But it's not true".

"I believe you", Peter gave Neal a long look. He casually had a word with two more witnesses before leaving.

* * *

Back at the Bureau, Peter asked Neal, "No occupied building near the place...What did you figure out?"

"I think, he took a picture of all cars parked outside the warehouse, which clearly belonged to the employees, and plugged license plate numbers in the NYPD database-

"-then contacted vehicle registrations as a cop to get detailed information on all of them to sound authentic during fake raid". _We do think on the same page._ Neal reflected when Peter completed his theory.

Diana entered, her gait and facial expressions depicted good news, "Guess who rented two twenty-four feet trucks for the heist? – 'Jason Nelson"

Peter smirked, "It's Richard's alias".

* * *

Things would get this smooth, Neal would've never thought of it. They were standing outside the Police Station, this time with NYPD squads. Richard was suspended. He was brought out in handcuffs and Neal had to flash his smile at their victory over a cop.

"Sorry…My bad… I told you I'm not the trustworthy kind"

Richard took it as offense, actually it was. Neal meant it to be that way. Before leaving in shackles, Richard paused before Neal, whispering,

"I'm going to rat you out".

"Yeah! We'll meet at the court if need be", Peter beamed.

"I can sue him right?" Neal nudged him. The tell tale signs of Mozzie's influence were becoming obvious to Peter, without waiting for his opinion, Neal bellowed, "You'll also have to pay damages for my apartment!"

* * *

Diana and Peter came back after interrogating suspects, "What about Deputy Marshal Thomas? Neal asked.

"He has the knack for attracting wealthy clientele, resulting in valuable fee generated from the court cases he serves. Richard had been one of his unregistered clients" Peter replied. "Thomas sold witness information to him and received cash".

"Richard said he'll only speak to his lawyer but Thomas, being afraid of murder charges, helped us get all goons. Five of them are on the wanted list of FBI for years except Toby Michael" Diana said. "He was an ex-officer, took an early retirement two years ago. Look at his file photo".

"He's he's changed". Neal had seen him bald, with muscular body built and a French beard but in the file photo Michael looked smart, handsome, clean shaved with finely cropped hair.

"That's why we couldn't identify him earlier" Peter said. "This happens when you fall for criminal life...it shows" Peter couldn't stop from adding.

"Doesn't affect Richard" Neal muttered.

"After what he's done to you, you're still impressed by him?"

"Not by him, by his dress sense, his car and his shoes...Can we visit his place for change of scenery?...Elizabeth would love it"

"It's outside your radius- wait your anklet is still in my locker"

Neal accepted the inevitable as Peter did the honors.

* * *

They gathered in the conference room like they did after every case. Agents were chatting, there was lightness in the air, when Jones disrupted their celebration, "Richard requested a bail".

All smiles slid quickly. Peter was exasperated, "Rich people just because they can afford, the world is at their feet. Sure he can expense the best lawyers in New York".

"You didn't let me finish" Jones grinned, "Federal magistrate judge didn't sign his release on bond… Justice prevails!"

"Neal, a private torture cell is found in his villa...banking records of twelve accounts controlled by Richard confirmed that he had deposited and received more than 350,000 dollars of unexplained cash without government's knowledge" he further reported.

"This amount is far beyond his legitimate income" Neal wondered.

"Yeah, records tell he earns 60,000 dollars per annum".

"If convicted what's the penalty?" Neal inquired.

"Twenty years of prison with a fine of 600,000 dollars will serve him right", Peter replied with a rueful smile.

"Nice for a cop" Neal smirked.

"Happy ending for a day… I'm hungry, how about some burger before we head home" Peter said.

"Love it"

"My treat"

"Love it even more!"

**The end.**

* * *

Thanks a lot for reading! I believe there's always room for improvement, forgive me for any loopholes... at least I dared to write ;p I have no words to express my gratitude for all the story alerts, reviews and favorite tags that sort of pushed me to complete this fic. Thanks again!


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